


The Benefits of Pine-Scented Cloaks

by huffinglepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oblivious Harry, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffinglepuff/pseuds/huffinglepuff
Summary: Draco is obsessed with Harry. Always has been.After witnessing an incident in the corridors, Harry has decided to befriend Draco.It’s just your average eighth year drarry fic.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 44
Kudos: 655





	The Benefits of Pine-Scented Cloaks

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> So firstly thanks for clicking on the fic in the first place, it genuinely means a lot to me. This is my first fic, based off my first bullet point style post based off a prompt on my tumblr Huffinglepuff. I hope you enjoy it :)

One week into eighth year and Draco was Fed Up.

He was Fed Up of having to skirt around corridors to avoid being hexed (or at least reduce how often it happened). He was Fed Up of the professors being condescendingly fair, especially when his new wand was acting up (which it did on a regular basis, thanks to Draco having to go to a sub-par wandmaker, what with the Dark Lord making the idiot decision to torture Ollivander until he couldn’t produce wands for a while yet).

But most of all, he was Fed Up of people fawning over Harry Potter the Saviour.

Somehow, Potter was always where Draco was. When Draco left class, Potter was there. When he walked into the Great Hall, Potter was often on his heels. And where Potter went his adoring fanbase went - girls and guys alike, after the wizarding world had a crisis over Potter coming out as bisexual.

(Let’s not focus on Draco’s much quieter, much more excited crisis, dispelling any fantasies he might have had not involving Potter.)

One good thing came out of the fanbase - Draco always got a giggly warning whenever Potter was nearby.

Which was why he was caught completely unawares when he rounded a corner in a relatively silent corridor to stumble ungracefully into Potter.

Potter’s eyes widened behind those hideous glasses of his, before betraying an emotion that looked like...relief?

“This belongs to you.” And Potter produced Draco’s wand, rather than a fist to the face as Draco would have expected.

Draco, as opposed to being the proud pure blood, was gaping like a fish until this point, when he reached out to take the wand from Potter’s hand. He jerked back with the wand as their fingertips brushed together. He cast a cleaning charm on Potter’s glasses (which were irritating him So. Much.), who didn’t so much as flinch, as he should have when being cast at by a death eater, but rather smiled softly, and said “Cheers, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded stiffly at Potter, only just remembering the etiquette that his mother had drilled in to him. Potter nodded back, raising a single eyebrow, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off.

Draco loosed a shaky breath before continuing to Ancient Runes, stomach churning for the entire lesson as his mind was taken up by caramel skin and curved lips and electrifyingly green eyes.

~

At breakfast the next day, Draco honestly couldn’t help but sit facing the Gryffindor table, watching Potter with the same intensity that he used to. He didn’t notice Pansy sitting next to him until she waved a hand in front of his face, yelling in his ear. Draco turned his head to pull a face at her.

“Finally! I thought we were over the whole Potter-stalking, but evidently not.” She rolled her eyes and started making two cups of tea.

“Evidently not” muttered Draco, attention on a dark haired figure sauntering into the room. _Why_ did he have to saunter? All it did was draw attention to that perfect arse of his. He reached blindly towards the tea, eyes never leaving Potter as he sat with his back to the Slytherin table (a good thing, as Draco’s blind reaching resulted in a full glass of pumpkin juice in Pansy’s lap. Where did that even come from anyway? Draco certainly hadn’t poured himself a glass - his plate was still empty as well.)

“Why did you have to knock over MY pumpkin juice? It was the first glass out of the jug, which is now empty.” Blaise glared at his glass, and then Draco, while holding an empty jug to his face.

“Who cares about your fucking pumpkin juice? My skirt is ruined” Pansy frowned at her lap.

“No it isn’t you idiot, we learned the charms to take out various liquids and foods from clothes after the great gravy incident of fourth year.” Indeed, Blaise already had his wand out and was siphoning away the last of the juice. “My problem, on the other hand, is much more significant - I won’t be able to get a pulpless glass of pumpkin juice!”

“Blaise, there is literally a full jug _right there_ ” Pansy said pointing to a jug about two feet away. “And I thought the pining prat over here was the over dramatic drama queen.” She nudged Draco, who had zoned out while staring at Potter. Again.

“Tea” Draco demanded, taking the mug Pansy hurriedly handed him lest there be another Incident. “Much obliged.” He took a sip, staring at Potter’s hair as he took a scalding sip. It was worse than bed hair - it looked like he had just been shagged. Hard.

Draco took another sip of tea, shifting the robes on his lap slightly as he tuned out the conversations around him, his world narrowing to that single messy head at the Gryffindor table.

~

Draco had never been so glad to have his wand as much as he did the next few weeks. He shared three classes with Potter:  
-Charms, in which he snapped three quills while staring at Potter.  
-Transfiguration, in which he vanished the bird he was supposed to be turning into a wooden toy.  
-Potions...let’s not get into the atrocity he produced in potions.  
It was 15 hours a week, of screwing everything up and trying to put it right before the professor noticed. His life would be a lot more problematic if his wand was being uncooperative.

He was also lucky in that Potter didn’t take arithmancy or ancient runes, which Draco took for the challenge more than anything else, and didn’t come as naturally to him.

Perhaps the luckiest thing happening was that Potter was...completely oblivious, from what Draco saw. Draco felt himself pretty observant, and Potter didn’t seem to be anything other than himself - basking in adoration from his fans, screwing up his potions worse than Draco at his most distracted, and not paying any attention to Draco (for once).

Draco didn’t know why he was surprised. Even when he was stalking Draco in sixth year, Potter didn’t have a clue about Draco’s main plan (which he _really_ didn’t want to think about - his father was a right idiot for following the Dark Lord). In third year, it had taken five attempts for Potter to see his fainting act, which had been pure gold.

Anyway, Draco didn’t want Potter noticing, because despite his lack of observational skills, he wasn’t _stupid_. He would easily put together the clues and if he ever confronted Draco...well, there was always Beauxbatons. He had got on with the students when they had come to Hogwarts in fourth year, even if he had spent more of his time obsessing over Krum. And he already spoke French.

Draco snapped out of his daydream as Slughorn dismissed them - he’d only got away with daydreaming as he had finished his potion early and had already bottled it. He took the bottle to the front of the room first, and left quickly, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the class. He was normally the only person alone on a bench, but was perfectly capable, and Slughorn didn’t want any extra trouble so he didn’t say anything. Draco was used to being ignored anyway.

He headed up to the Great Hall for lunch - Pansy said she’d be there, so he couldn’t skip. He stuck to the sides, but he stuck out like a sore thumb - none of the older years were out yet, and his shade of hair was particularly distinctive. There were the usual whispers, but nothing that he couldn’t ignore. Not until a distinct pain in his side - a stinging hex, followed by a tripping jinx. Draco rolled his eyes, but wasn’t given an opportunity to draw his wand for defence as he was struck by a _Petrificus Totalus_ and left in a vulnerable position on the floor.

“Death eater scum.” Five third year Gryffindors bared down on him, the corridor suddenly empty of people. Typical.

“My family was murdered by death eaters. Let’s teach this one a lesson.” As Draco resigned himself to his fate, a blue shield charm appeared, and a voice started yelling.

Draco was released from the jinx, so he propped himself up to see an arse in front of him. An arse he would know anywhere.

Potter turned to face Draco, holding a hand out. Draco took it, his palms a bit sweaty as he looked at Potter’s profile (ever the Saviour), and stood in a smooth motion as he was pulled up.

“Thanks, Potter.” Draco was suddenly very aware just how close he was to Potter. Their robes were touching, their hands still clasped, Potter's lips not two inches from Draco’s. Those very soft looking, full, kissable lips. Draco forced himself to look into those very green, sincere eyes.

“Anytime.” The moment had lasted half a second, and Potter let go of Draco’s hand, nodding once before strolling away, only the set of his shoulders revealing anything was wrong.

“Bloody heroic Potter” Draco muttered, grabbing his bag off the floor.

~

Harry was livid.

The war was over, there was no reason to still fight people. There certainly wasn’t any reason to be hexing people who had been forced onto the wrong side.

A good ten minutes later, Harry’s heart was still pounding - due to adrenaline. And anger. Malfoy had looked as he always did when Harry had walked away - calm, collected, completely the little pure-blooded heir his father had brought him up to be. But when he had pulled Malfoy off the floor, his palms had been sweaty, and his grey irises had almost been swallowed by his dilated pupils; clear signs of fear. It was two weeks into the term - how often had this been going on? The attackers must have been reasonably sneaky - Harry had been following Malfoy around for a week, looking for an opportunity to give him back his wand now that Harry had his holly and phoenix feather one back, but had always been prevented by the idiots who insisted on following him everywhere. Thanks to them, he had refused to eat or drink anything Hermione hadn’t tested for love potions (especially when a few of them had tested positive), until she taught him the spell. Now, despite the idiots, he always felt alone - he and Ginny had been too alike to work, and the spark had died out within a week of them getting back together. Hermione and Ron, on the other hand, were sickeningly in love, resulting in Harry always feeling like he was on the outside of an inside joke. While he loved them both, Harry decided to avoid them a bit more than he usually would - at least, until the honeymoon period was over.

Hence the Malfoy stalking. Well, nobody had called him out on it yet, but Harry was drawn to him in an odd way. Nothing bad - Harry was pretty sure Malfoy wasn’t up to something, and was usually right about these things - but Malfoy looked paler and more closed off than normal, despite four of his friends returning to Hogwarts.

Walking away from the incident, Harry decided to keep an eye on Mal- Draco. He will call him Draco.

It’s less hostile.

And it might make M- Draco blush, which is always amusing.

~

Apparently Potter was back to his stalking habits.

After his daily half an hour of staring at the back of Potter’s head while ignoring Blaise and Pansy (also known as breakfast) Draco headed off to charms. Potter’s fan club was not far behind.

(Honestly, if he’s going to stalk Draco he should at least _try_ to get rid of them).

Then, even though half of the classroom was empty, Potter sat NEXT TO DRACO.

NEXT TO HIM.

(It was all Draco could do to not start squealing like the newest member of the I heart Potter club.)

After getting comfortable, stretching out his legs underneath the table, Potter said “It’s okay to sit here, right?”

“Bit late to be asking that, isn’t it Potter.” Draco raised one eyebrow, refusing to let his face betray even one of the many emotions swirling inside. (Instead, he gathered them up, popped them in a box, sat on said box, and wrapped it in thick, heavy chains.)

Potter mimicked Draco’s expression, raising one eyebrow, before rocking back on his chair (that boy is a hazard) and saying “I could leave.”

Draco shrugged. “If you want.”

“Eh, I’m quite comfortable now. I think I’ll stay.”

_He’s going to crack his bloody head open, and I’ll be fucking arrested._

As Draco was considering the merits of ordering Potter to stop rocking back on his chair, because there are four legs for a reason ( _I’m turning into my mother_ ) Flitwick walked into the room, announcing that today they’d be practicing non-verbal charms.

“Whatever you want, just that it has to be non-verbal. I know you started non-verbal casting in sixth year defence, but non-verbal charms are generally considered to be harder because they are often object manipulation, rather than general casting. Now go ahead, and try not to kill anyone!” A look at Finnigan, who despite his knack at blowing up various objects with basic charms, had continued to NEWT level.

Draco spared a sidelong glance at Harry, who’s brow was already furrowed in concentration. Draco conjured a glass (with words muttered under his breath) before thinking the words _Aqua Eructo,_ aiming to fill the glass with a thin stream of water.

After about 30 seconds of very hard concentration (and a small amount of Occlumency to spare him from other distractions) he successfully filled the glass. Now that he had the technique, it wasn’t very difficult to vanish it.

The moment he wordlessly vanished the glass wasn’t a moment too soon, as Draco’s concentration was broken by a white... _thing_ flickered in the corner of his right eye. He turned his head to see Potter still looking deep in concentration, but with the corners of his lips turned up. He really had very nice lips, in Draco’s opinion - not too full but not too thin, pink against tanned skin.

He realised that he’d been staring at Potter’s lips when there was another burst of white from the end of Potter’s wand. _What was he trying to do?_

It became apparent when, on the third attempt, a large stag appeared from the end of Potter’s wand. Draco’s jaw dropped - he couldn’t even do a patronus charm with words! Never mind the fact that Potter's patronus was so... _majestic._

Potter noticed Draco’s stare, and said “Go big or go home, right?”

“Potter, that is a terrible saying. What if you’re on a stealth mission? Or trying to navigate a very delicate situation?”

“Firstly, I don’t do stealthy. And secondly...shut up, Draco.”

Draco covered his shock with a smirk; since when did Potter call him Draco? No matter - he could still talk. He thought, anyway. “And why would I do that? My voice is much nicer than yours; and I make such good points.”

Potter rolled his eyes and turned back to what he was doing - his stag had disappeared.

A quick glance around the room didn’t yield much information to Draco, so he cleared his mind before non-verbally conjuring a glass, and filling it with water, before banishing the lot.

Anything to distract him from Potter’s smirk, which was clearly going to haunt him for the next week.

~

Harry had, surprisingly, enjoyed sitting next to Draco yesterday. He hadn’t realised how much he missed sarcasm until talking to him. Not to mention, despite the fact that they’d barely even talked, he’d felt more like a part of a conversation than he ever did with Ron and Hermione.

He hoped they stopped ignoring him sometime soon.

 _Still,_ he thought, walking to potions, _it would be nice to have a friend who wasn’t part of a couple._ Seamus and Dean were together, as were Neville and Hannah. Ginny was with Luna (they’d got together soon after Harry and Ginny had broken up, constantly visiting each other over the summer and had been near inseparable since they got back) and...he didn’t really have any other close friends.

As far as he had seen, Draco wasn’t part of any couple. He spent a lot of time with Parkinson, Bulstrode, Nott and Zabini - but Zabini spent most of his time eyeing up Ravenclaws, Nott spent a lot of time eyeing up Bulstrode, Parkinson spent a lot of time eyeing up her mirror, and Bulstrode’s body language didn’t betray any hidden relationship; nor did Parkinson’s, although she was clearly close with Draco.

Harry walked into the classroom, eyes immediately drawn to white hair, that looked pale, liquid gold in the lighting of the classroom. The thing he was happiest about when Slughorn took over from Snape was that he had gotten rid of the eerie, green light in favour of cheerfully burning torches on the walls. It suited Draco to no end, softening the pointy edges of his face.

He shook himself out of his stupor and walked over to Draco, slipping into the bench beside him. If anything, at least his potions grade would increase; while he was very good at defence, got by in transfiguration and charms and had Neville to help him in Herbology, Hermione’s trademark method of teaching (recite the textbook until he understood/stopped asking) didn’t help in potions. Which he needed a good NEWT in to at least keep his options open, whether or not he wanted to become an auror.

“Hello, Potter.”

“Hello Draco.”

Draco glared at Harry, while he smirked. He’d expected a bigger reaction from Draco yesterday when he’d called him Draco, rather than almost nothing - he hadn’t missed the flash of shock on his face. Nothing like the unbridled shock when Harry had successfully conjured a non-verbal patronus (an expression that Harry had very much enjoyed).

“Well, I suppose it will be nice to have someone to do all the grunt work.”

“You wish.” Harry continued to smirk as Draco sneered at him, before turning his attention to Slughorn at the front of the classroom.

“Today, we will be brewing Felix Felicis. You may remember what it looked like, although sixth year may seem like a lifetime ago to some - it is supposed to be similar in colour and texture to molten gold at the end. It normally needs to be left for six months to mature, but I can grade whatever you make today and vanish it - it is a very advanced potion, and it is unlikely that any of you will make it correctly. It is your methods that count. You have two hours - begin!”

“I’ll get the ingredients, since you will definitely get ones that are inferior. Half fill the cauldron with water and get it bubbling” Draco ordered, not giving him a chance to reply as he stalked off with a robe-swish worthy of Snape himself.

Despite his annoyance at Draco’s attitude, he obeyed his orders, retrieving an untarnished silver cauldron from the back of the classroom (he was terrible at potions but he _could_ read instructions), and filling it with an _Aguamenti_ before lighting a fire underneath and heating up the water with a heating charm to speed up the process.

Draco nodded his approval, thrusting an ashwinder egg, mortar and pestle at Harry before chopping up a horse radish in perfectly sized slices. Harry ground it up and moved to put the contents in the cauldron before his wrist was caught by a pale hand.

He sneered at the ground up egg, before saying “No wonder you’re failing potions.”

“I am not fail-“

“Due to favouritism” Draco cut him off. “This isn’t ground fine enough, and if you knew anything about potions you would know to stir the water and add the egg gradually so that it doesn’t clump and settle at the bottom.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I can’t do anything if you’re holding my hand.” Draco took his hand off Harry’s wrist as if burned.

Harry continued to grind up the egg while Draco cut up the horseradish, then moved it all to one side and started on the murtlap. _Since when were Draco’s fingers so long and thin?_ Harry looked down at his own fingers, dutifully wrapped around the pestle and holding the mortar in place. His fingernails were blunt and bitten, although he couldn’t remember biting them. The skin was dark, with little scars all over, and his left hand was marred by the words _I must not tell lies._

He checked the egg - he couldn’t even tell it was supposed to be an egg, it was just grey powder. It looked more like ash. He didn’t want to ask Draco, but he also didn’t want to be hexed, so he said “this must be good enough.”

Draco looked down his nose into the mortar. “It’s...adequate. Stir the water anti-clockwise with one hand and gradually add the egg with the other, then turn down the heat and add the horseradish. Then stir clockwise _slowly_ until I say stop.”

The rest of the lesson progressed in a similar manner, with Draco ordering Harry around and generally being condescending.

At the end of the lesson, Harry got his first Outstanding since he’d had Snape’s book.

~

Draco was quite confused these days. Not only had Potter decided to become his potions assistant (not that he was complaining), he was sitting next to Draco in charms and transfiguration despite not needing much help. He had apparently asked Granger to look after him in ancient runes and arithmancy, which Draco wouldn’t mind except he didn’t _need_ looking after. She wasn’t as determined as Potter, which was a relief - she only talked to him when the class was required to pair up, which wasn’t often. On top of that, he had somehow managed to find Draco’s nook in the library where nobody harassed him.

Except Potter.

It wasn’t a large nook - there was a bookshelf behind and in front, with a window on the side, and a desk pushed up against one bookshelf with two chairs (one of which used to be for Draco’s bag, before Potter arrived and unceremoniously demoted it to the floor). Potter always cornered Draco in, since Draco refused to move from his window seat, and always seemed to be wearing some sort of pine-scented aftershave, which always set Draco on edge. More often than not he ended up staring out of the window to avoid being caught staring outright at Potter, as that would be rather hard to explain.

Never mind the fact that he’d caught Potter staring at him more than once - it was always with a vacant expression, and Draco knew how prone Potter was to daydreaming. It couldn’t possibly be about him.

Regardless of his internal complaining, Draco couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy studying more than he used to, even if his productivity had decreased considerably and he stayed out later than usual. He’d had more opportunities to practice his disillusionment charms.

On this particular day, Potter was more excitable than usual. It probably had something to do with the fact that it was the first Hogsmeade weekend, and despite being a year older eighth years were limited the same amount as the seventh years until Christmas, for whatever inexplicable reason McGonagall had come up with. Draco wouldn’t usually mind, except he liked to avoid crowds as a whole, and also liked to get his ideas for various Christmas presents around October.

Potter was chattering away to Draco, about how excited he was to go to Honeydukes and Zonko’s ( _Honestly, he’s no better than a third year_ Draco thought, his eyes) and how he hadn’t “had a proper butterbeer in over a year, Draco, how ridiculous is that?”

“Extremely, Potter, considering you can get them by owl-order.”

“A bit difficult to do that while on the run from...everybody.” Potter shook his head, his hair flopping everywhere, then ran a hand through it, making it messier. He hadn’t picked up that habit until fifth year, Draco had noted, and always been rather confused since he knew that hadn’t been Potter’s best year. Maybe it was a nervous habit? But then why on Earth would he bite his nails…

“And what was stopping you during the summer?”

“Ron ordered some, and it just didn’t taste the same. Stop trying to ruin my fun, Draco.” He pushed Draco’s shoulder. He was always doing that - casual shoulder pushes and nudges with his feet in class when Slughorn fucked something up, a sparkle in his eye when Draco turned his head indignantly.

“Well of course it didn’t taste the same when ordered by the Weasel - an order from the _Saviour_ would be of top quality. And what is my purpose in life, if not to ruin your fun?”

Draco was pretty sure words came out of his mouth, because his brain was very much short-circuiting. Throughout the conversation they had been turned towards each other, but Potter had turned a little more, so that his knee was pressed right up against Draco’s. He’d all but ignored Draco’s little jab - it was all harmless teasing at this point, the two of them were friends - of sorts - and had continued to talk about his plans for the weekend. Draco wasn’t listening to any of it; his world had centered to that one point of contact between them. He adamantly refused to look at it, instead softening his gaze and staring into those green eyes, which seemed close enough for Draco to fall into. They weren’t a solid green - the outer ring was a couple of shades lighter, and when the light caught them at just the right angle - like now - they glowed. Between the beautiful eyes and Harry’s unguarded, joyous expression, Draco had no idea how long he could keep up his careless facade.

~

“Harry, out with it. You have been out ‘studying’ every night for the last three weeks! Who are you shagging?”

Harry’s eyes widened fractionally, before realising this was Hermione - nothing got past her. “I’m not shagging anyone, just studying.” He dumped his potions essay that he’d copied off Malfoy on the table in front of the sofa Ron and Hermione had been cuddling on.

She immediately snatched it up, skim reading it by the fire for about ten seconds before triumphantly saying “He’s shagging Malfoy.”

If Ron had a drink in his mouth, this would be the point where he spat it everywhere. “Harry, mate, we’ve established I’m fine with you shagging guys, but not ferrets! That’s beastiality.” Clearly, Hermione’s vocabulary had been rubbing off on him, although _when_ they’d been talking about beastiality evaded Harry.

“I am not shagging _anyone,_ least of all Draco! Where did you even come to that conclusion?” Harry flopped down into a comfy, battered armchair, stretching his hands and feet towards the fire - the library was _freezing,_ chasing away any warming charm that Harry or Draco cast

“Well either you’re shagging Malfoy or you’ve got the Snape’s seventh year book, which seems unlikely since we went to Diagon Alley to get all our books together. You haven’t been this good at potions since sixth year, and since you’re not coming to me for help the only other person who’s any good at potions is Malfoy - not to mention that you’ve been sitting next to him in classes and you’re calling him Draco.”

“Fine, so I’ve been sitting with him and calling him his actual name. What does that have to do with anything? I do the same with you guys and I’m not shagging either of you!” Harry shuddered at the thought - he loved them both dearly but it would be like incest. “You agreed to look out for him in arithmancy and ancient runes, does that mean you’re shagging him?”

“I’m looking out for him because he’d been hexed and because you asked, and he carries a better conversation than anyone else in that class anyway. And Harry, I don’t ‘study’ with him outside of lessons!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” Ron waved a time-out sign with his hands - Harry wondered where he’d got that from, since it wasn’t a common gesture in Hogwarts. “Both of you have been cosying up to Malfoy? What shall we do next, invite him to Hogsmeade with us? No, Harry, that is not a genuine suggestion” Ron added, as Harry perked up slightly.

Harry sighed. “We’re friends, and I’m quite enjoying it since he’s my only friend not in a relationship - it’s nice to not feel like I’m on the outside all the time!” Harry felt taken aback at his outburst, and immediately hunched in on himself, looking sheepish.

“Sorry mate-“

“We didn’t realise we’d been leaving you out-“

“We’ll be better-“

“Don’t look like that Harry, it’s not your fault.”

Harry looked up and shook his head. “It’s fine guys, I’ll probably be the same when I have a new relationship. Once you’re out of your honeymoon phase it’ll be better. And that’s my cue”, Harry added, as Hermione and Ron started looking at each other in that way, and while Harry really did love them both he wasn’t ready to be present for a make out session unless he had a bottle of firewhiskey. “I’ll see you tomorrow for Hogsmeade, yeah?”

“See you tomorrow Harry.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow mate.”

Harry walked up the staircase to the dorms. It was quite late, and not surprising that Hermione and Ron thought he was shagging someone. Seamus, Dean and Neville’s curtains were already drawn, and Harry pulled off his uniform, pulling on an old, baggy t-shirt of Dudley’s and climbing into bed.

He thought about what he wanted in a partner, and considered if they were male - despite his revelation, he always fantasised about girls, mostly because they were considered ‘normal’ and that’s what he wanted - to be normal, with a normal life, kids and a back garden and a dog, or a crup.

He lived in a world of magic, so surely all that would be achievable with a male partner.

He didn’t know what to think about the blonde-haired man who creeped into his dreams that night, nor the pale hand tilting his chin upwards to meet soft, smirking lips, nor the grey eyes staring into his own.

~

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip dawned batshit freezing.

Draco woke up to a huge, orange eye belonging to the giant squid directly outside his dorm window. Honestly, there were no benefits to their dorms being underwater - he didn’t know _what_ Salazar was thinking putting them all down there.

He cast a quick tempus, which revealed it was 7:30 on the dot. He whipped off his thick duvet, gritting his teeth at the cold air, and after a quick shower flicked a hex at Blaise that would get his lazy arse out of bed. He pulled on a pair of soft, woollen, charcoal trousers and a green, cashmere sweater which matched the drapes on his bed. He then pulled on thick socks and dragonhide boots before firing a second hex at Blaise, who finally got out of bed muttering a string of varied curses, some of which impressed Draco - he was sure Blaise had a book filled with them.

He walked into the common room to see Theo, who had always been an early riser, but refused to talk before having his first cup of coffee - a habit he had picked up in sixth year after someone asked the elves to start supplying the breakfast tables with the stuff in the mornings. He wasn’t going to Hogsmeade, as he had become disenchanted with the village after one outing and did all of his shopping using catalogues and owl order (Draco assumed - he’d never seen Theo doing any of this but he always had Christmas presents for his friends and _never_ went into a shop that wasn’t a bookshop).

Pansy appeared, as if summoned, two seconds later, in a short grey skirt, knee-high black boots, black tights (which must have warming charms imbued in them, because the only person who hated the cold more than Draco was Pansy,) and a low cut maroon sweater showing a _lot_ of cleavage, but somehow still looked classy. Draco would never understand Pansy’s knack of showing a lot of skin and never looking slutty. It was a wonder that he hadn’t realised he was gay sooner, what with Pansy prancing around looking like that.

“I bet ten galleons that Blaise will be another fifteen minutes” Pansy said, checking her purse for funds.

“Twenty minutes easily - it took two hexes to get him out of bed this morning.” Draco smirked.

“Oh, are we betting how long it takes Blaise to come out? Half an hour.” Millicent rounded the corner, sensibly dressed in a knitted grey sweater, mid-thigh navy skirt and fur-lined boots.

“I might as well make some money - thirty-five minutes.” Draco, Millie and Pansy all turned to Theo, shocked that he’d spoken, as he smirked slightly.

Blaise ended up taking thirty-seven minutes, and was immediately punched by Pansy for wasting her money on _Theo_ , who looked rather smug. Draco knew Theo was going to spend the thirty galleons on books which Draco won’t be allowed to borrow.

After a hasty breakfast, the group headed down to Hogsmeade, minus Theo. Everyone had plans - Pansy had a friend at Gladrags who always held down the latest clothes in her size, Blaise wanted some new clothes since his last ‘conquest’ had torn...something. Draco hadn’t been paying attention. Millie wanted to go to Dervish and Banges for - something…this Potter obsession was really keeping him out of the loop. Draco didn’t want anything in particular, just to be outside maybe do some early Christmas shopping.

Pansy joined Draco and Millie to Dervish and Banges - the two girls were a lot more efficient than Blaise when it came to shopping, as Blaise always wanted to try on ten items for every one he kept. The shop was as interesting as ever, with little dark detectors (that thankfully didn’t hiss and spit at Draco - that had been a bad day for everyone) and odd tools that no one knew how to use. Millie picked up a few of these - for digging up Merlin’s balls, Draco could only assume - before going to the wizened old man behind the till to pay. Draco considered himself lucky that people served him - while he hadn’t been out many times during the summer, Potter’s words at his trial had had more power than he could have ever imagined, and while he wasn’t often given a warm welcome, most places accepted whatever business he brought.

A light drizzle had started up when they left Dervish and Banges, so they hastily put up umbrella charms as they walked over to Gladrags. Pansy rushed over to a witch in the dark blue uniform of the shop, who gave her a hug before pulling out a rack of clothes from seemingly nowhere, which Pansy efficiently started sorting through.

Millie and Draco wandered through the shop in their separate directions, knowing they would be in the shop for at least an hour. Draco picked up an ice-blue scarf with a faint peacock-feather pattern for his mother - it would be nice to wrap up another present, especially if it’s delicate. He also picked up a sky-blue sweater - quite thin, but made of the softest material he’d ever felt.

Wandering further, he saw some clothes similar to what Potter wore. They were probably muggle - it was common knowledge that Potter had grown up with a muggle family. He eyed up the pull over shirts, and the pullover...jumpers? They had an odd, large pocket towards the bottom and elastic around the arm holes and the body hole, and a hood with laces threaded through. It was quite odd, and Draco wondered what the muggle world had against buttons. _Although,_ he reasoned, _it would be a pain to do them up without the charm wizards used._

Having spent forty minutes wandering and daydreaming, Draco went to the counter to pay, before banishing them to his room and going over to the three he’d arrived with. Millie was sitting on a stool, looking rather bored but still running an eye over whatever Pansy came out wearing and giving her her blunt opinion.

“Is Blaise still trying on clothes?” Draco asked, hopeful that the other boy had decided to go to the toilet or something.

“What do you think?” Millie rolled her eyes. Pansy came out wearing a short, tight black dress.

“Where are you going to wear that?” Draco raised an eyebrow at the scandalous dress. “Your parents would never let you take it to a ball or a gala.”

“You think I don’t know that? This is what the muggles wear to go clubbing.” Pansy did a little twirl, the low cut back revealing her lack of a bra. “I think I’ll wear it to go clubbing, and you’re coming with me. There is ridiculously loud music and there are ones just for gay men - exactly your cup of tea.”

“I think we all know what - or who - Draco’s cup of tea is.” Millie looked at Draco. “So Draco isn’t going into a club unless he’s following a certain green-eyed boy.”

“True.” Pansy pouted. “I’m buying this anyway.” She flounced back into her cubicle.

Draco slumped next to Millie, and resigned himself to another hour of clothes.

~

Harry had woken up that morning at 8:53, to the image of Ron’s face about five inches from his. It was really quite terrifying.

He’d hurriedly pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans that were scuffed, but not quite ripped (yet) and a dark grey hoodie. He then pulled on a pair of odd socks - one was bright blue with a snitch pattern, and the other was Chudley Cannons orange - both clearly presents from Ron. _Or maybe stolen from Ron,_ Harry thought, as the orange one came halfway up his calf, thankfully covered by his jeans. He pulled on his battered trainers and almost fell down the stairs, just to see Ron’s foot disappear through the portrait hole, yelling “Get your lazy arse over here Harry, I’ve missed breakfast for you!”

“Breakfast started an hour ago and will run for another hour, and the elves will give us anything we want anyway.” Harry fell into step besides Ron, who looked at Harry as if he was from another planet.

“I don’t think you fully understand the magnitude of the sacrifice I have made for you” Ron said, in the same tone of voice as Percy when he was being Important. He looked outraged when Harry told him as much.

“Are you two going to argue, or are we going to breakfast?” Hermione glared at them both, who looked sheepish and sped up, Ron holding Hermione’s hand.

After a quick breakfast, they ran back up to the dorms as neither of the boys had thought to bring down their money (“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re going to pass your NEWTs with this level of organisation.”

“By relying on you, of course” Ron had replied, while Harry nodded in agreement), before racing back down to the entrance hall to meet Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hannah, Seamus, and Dean.

The group wandered down to Hogsmeade, spending a large amount of time in Zonko’s, by request of Ginny and Seamus, and then Hogsmeade, where Ron bought half of the shop and Harry, Ginny, Seamus and Dean split the other half. Sucking on sparkling sherbets (“They make your eyes sparkle for a few hours, depending on the colour apparently - the closer they are to a precious metal or mineral the longer they sparkle.” Neville had read off the packet), the group then jogged down to The Three Broomsticks with their jackets held over their heads in the drizzle.

“Butterbeers okay?” Hannah asked, going to get the first round. The rest all headed to a large, round booth towards the back that seated ten and could all see out of the booth at varying angles. It was a wonder it hadn’t been taken yet.

They all jostled one another in, with the couples next to each other and Harry on the end with the best view of the bar.

“Hermione’s terrifying guys. She’s gonna terrify her way to the top of the Ministry.” Ron shook his head, eyes wide...

“Come off it Ronald. I’m going to go through the proper routes to the top of the Ministry, purging it of the idiots as I go.”

“You do that, there won’t be anyone left except you and Shakers!” Seamus laughed.

“Shakers?” Hermione asked.

“Shaklebolt” Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ron and Harry chorused.

“No no, Ron will be there, head of the aurors.” Harry patted Ron’s shoulder.

“”Maybe not at the rate my NEWTs are going...might go work with George at the shop. Might have to get you to pull a few strings though mate.”

“Molly is the one you’re going to have to go to” Harry replied - while he invested in the shop and George would listen to him, Harry didn’t feel comfortable using his money against George. However, Harry had no issues with throwing George’s mother at him.

“True, true. What are all of you going to do?” Ron asked.

“Well there are apprenticeships to become a master of herbology that I’ve been looking into. I’ve applied to a couple that go to the rainforest in South America.” Neville glowed at the idea.

“With your grades, I’m sure you will get in.” Ginny said.

“Can I join you Neville? I’ve heard there are a rare species of wrackspurts called fröckenhorts that I’d like to try and write about for the Quibbler.”

“Trying to steal my boyfriend, Luna?” Hannah set the round of butterbeers on the table.

“Of course she isn’t.” Ginny curled an arm around her girlfriend.

“I wanted to do a muggle degree in art, but I’m not sure how to get in with wizarding qualifications” Dean looked contemplative rather than down heartened at the obstacle.

“There’s probably a way to do it - you should speak to McGonagall about that.” Seamus said.

“What do you want to do, Seamus?”

“Probably live under Dean’s bed at uni.”

This brought on a chorus of laughs. Hannah was talking about her mother’s bakery, and how to add magic to it to make it more efficient, when Harry suddenly tuned out the conversation. The front door had opened to let a group of Slytherins in - at the front, Draco. He was wearing a dark green jumper, grey trousers (that did wonders for his arse, Harry noted when he turned around. Not that he was looking or anything) and polished, black boots. Harry felt slightly shocked - he’d never seen Draco in non-wizarding clothes, and they suited him (even if it was like seeing a hippogriff in a three-piece suit). Harry snapped out of it when those grey eyes turned on him - he hoped he hadn’t looked as gormless as he imagined. That wouldn’t bode well for their friendship.

The conversation had changed a lot during his zone-out, but thankfully no one had noticed - they were watching the entertaining, monthly edition of Ron VS Dean: Quidditch or Football?

“The players don’t even fly!”

“They don’t have magic!”

“The balls don’t fly either!”

“They do if you kick them hard enough!”

“That’s another thing - why can you use any body part except your hands?”

“Because those are the fucking rules, Ron!”

Everyone in the group’s heads turned back and forth as if watching a tennis match, as the two boys, while almost standing, were on opposite sides of the table. Harry sneaked a glance at the Slytherins, who were deep in their own conversation and not listening to the shouting match - likely due to the _muffliato_ that had been placed around them at the start.

Harry turned back to his friends, a smile lighting his still-sparkling eyes.

~

After another hour of watching Pansy and Blaise try on clothes, the group _finally_ trudged back into the cold to go into The Three Broomsticks. Draco scanned the pub, before spotting Potter, who immediately averted his gaze. His eyes were sparkling more than usual - despite his ratty clothes he’d never looked better, in Draco’s opinion. He looked a bit - shocked? Draco thought that was shock on his face when he looked at Draco’s clothes (They _were_ muggle, he supposed, which went against his previous beliefs) but it turned to approval, before he turned back to his conversation, where the Weasel was yelling at Thomas. Thomas was attractive, Draco thought, glancing at his arse, but he didn’t hold a candle to Potter.

“If you’re done drooling over Potter, what do you want?” Pansy put her hands on her hips.

“Can’t we only have butterbeer in here?”

“Or water, I suppose.” Pansy had taken her hands off her hips to pick at her nails.

“You’re going to ruin your nail polish.”

“It needs redoing anyway.”

The four Slytherins headed to a table near to Potter, but didn’t allow Draco to get a chair facing the rabble’s table - a good idea, since this meant Draco had to actually be part of the conversation. Pansy arrived last, levitating four butterbeers - she always got the quickest service, although she refused to let anyone come with her, as she refused to reveal the ‘family secret’ (Draco was of the opinion that Madame Rosmerta wasn’t as straight as she had everyone believe, and the family secret was ample cleavage under a low-cut top).

“So then, boys and girls, what is the topic of conversation today?” Blaise gestured grandly before clapping his hands together and rocking back on his chair.

“Top ten ways to crack your skull open, the first of which being demonstrated by yourself” Draco replied.

“Number nine being within ten metres of a quidditch stadium during a match.” Blaise glared at Draco.

“Number eight being irritating me when I’m anywhere near...anything. Walls are excellent for cracking people’s heads open, but floors will do in a pinch.” Millie smirked.

“Something less morbid?” Pansy pleaded - she wasn’t one for anything gory, preferring nails, makeup, hair and herbology, which usually rendered the first three pointless.

“You wouldn’t believe the arse on the seventh year I shagged yesterd- “

“Blaise, no.” Draco glared at Blaise, still irritated from the quidditch comment. It wasn’t that dangerous!

“Just because the most action you get from anyone who isn’t your right hand is a hex in the corridors.”

“No, my left hand occasionally gets in on the action!”

“Boys! I thought you were brought up with fancy-ass pure blood manners!”

“So were you, Millie.” Draco turned, glad for the change in topic.

“Yeah, but you two actually follow them.”

“Do they though?” Pansy raised an eyebrow.

“Point taken.” Millie shrugged.

At this point, there was a cacophony of noise behind Draco as the Gryffindor table, plus Abbot and Lovegood (who was an honorary Gryffindor at this point) removed their silencing charm to exit the pub. As Draco looked out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Thomas and the Weasel were still arguing about something or the other, with Granger rolling her eyes and Finnigan looking regretful that he didn’t bring popcorn. The other two couples were being all...coupley, and Potter, although it wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer, was on the outside of it all and deep in thought (those emerald eyes still sparkling away - _he must use a charm,_ Draco thought, _as if he doesn’t get enough attention already_ ) although he kept his eyes trained on the argument as if listening for the most part - they’d flicked to Draco’s for a moment, not long enough for Draco to read what was in them - and hopefully not long enough for Harry to see what must have been clearly written in his.

Draco dragged his eyes away to see Pansy and Blaise arguing, while Millie rolled her eyes and sipped at her drink. Draco mirrored her, a warm feeling spreading inside his chest as he sat with his friends, the back of his mind still thinking of those green eyes, the split second they’d been on his.

~

Harry didn’t know what to do with himself on Halloween this year. Previously, he’d always been busy - between trolls, Death-day parties, ‘mass murderers’, trials, Umbridge, quidditch and being on the run, Harry had never had much time to consider what this day meant to him. At the Dursley’s, he’d always nicked some sweets from Dudley if he could get away with it - often Bounties and Parma Violets, which Dudley said ‘tasted like soap’ and ‘weren’t real sweets’, but Harry liked them all the same. He’d found out that his parents had died on Halloween when Hagrid had picked him up, but had always put off mourning until the day after due to whatever happened that year - last year he hadn’t fully realised he’d missed the anniversary until he and Hermione went to Godric’s Hollow that Christmas - and even then Nagini had prevented him from fully taking his time. This year, none of that was in his way. Halloween was on a Saturday, so he didn’t even have lessons. He’d do his homework tomorrow.

After leaving a note for Ron saying he wanted to be left alone and would be back after dinner, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and walked out of the castle towards the Forbidden Forest. He hadn’t been near it since the Battle, but it was the last time he saw his parents, even if they were shades. It seemed...right.

He walked along the path, the damp leaves barely making a sound as he stepped on them. Good. Today wasn’t a day for noise.

He stopped for a moment at the point where he’d dropped the resurrection stone. He could see a little bump in the leaves where it must be. Resisting the temptation to disturb his parents one last time, he levitated it, and the surrounding leaves so he wouldn’t have to look at it, and forcefully buried it about two metres off the path, before smoothing the earth over the top so there was no evidence.

He continued down the path, to the clearing. His heart sped up and his chest tightened as his blood pressure rose, but he continued until he stood at the point where he died. His hand went to his chest, where the white scar, not appearing to have a shape as it was distorted by scar tissue, but where he knew was a smaller, less obvious lightning-bolt scar.

He continued walking until he’d reached the trees where Hagrid had been chained. He put up some wards and protective enchantments and removed his cloak, before sinking to the ground, his back against cold, hard, bark, and finally let his tears fall.

~

He didn’t know how long he sat there for, but when he finally came back to reality his limbs were stiff, the cold had reached his bones and nothing had come near him. He cast a quick tempus which revealed he’d been sitting there for the best part of ten hours, and the feast had just started. He stiffly stood up, casting drying and warming charms which chased away most of the cold and began the trek back to the castle. He really didn’t want to go to the feast, so he headed down to the kitchens. The elves always made too much food, and he wasn’t bothered about waiting if they needed him to.

The pear giggled before allowing him entrance, and a soft smile broke out over Harry’s face as he saw Kreacher, happily bustling about with Regulus’ locket and Winky in tow. Winky also looked a lot happier.

He removed his cloak, startling several elves. Kreacher came over first, croaking “What would Master be wanting in the kitchens? There is a feast in the hall, Master could sit with Master’s friends. Is Master okay?” He added, noting Harry’s eyes, which were likely red and puffy from crying.

“I’ve asked you not to call me Master, Kreacher, and today is just a sad day and I don’t want to be around people. Could I have a bit of food? I don’t want to disrupt anything so I can sit for a bit if you need.”

“Us elves be making lots of food, so Master,” Kreacher smirked at Harry - it was an odd expression on the elf, “should only be waiting for five minutes”

Harry sighed - he didn’t want to have to order Kreacher to do anything he didn’t want to, and Kreacher enjoyed calling Harry ‘Master’ to spite him so he tolerated it. “That’s fine, Kreacher.” Harry leaned against the wall, a glass of pumpkin juice in hand (it had floated right to him straight after his and Kreacher’s conversation) and let his mind drift again. No sooner had he zoned out than the door opened, revealing Draco, who was clearly trying to hide how out of breath he was by taking overly slow, deep ones. However, the blush on his pale cheeks betrayed his exertion.

“Potter? I haven’t seen you all day. You look dreadful.” Harry didn’t take the words at face value as he noticed a flicker of worry in the grey eyes.

“Today is the anniversary of my parents’ death. I wanted to be alone.” Harry shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as his ‘dreadful’ appearance would allow.

“I’m sorry.” Draco eyes flickered downwards.

“It’s not your fault. I think this year has hit hardest because it’s the first year I’ve been able to properly mourn.” Harry had no idea how his voice was staying steady.

“It’s manners, Potter. I have no idea why you’re pouring your heart out to me in any case.”

Harry had no idea either. Thankfully he didn’t have to muddle his way through an explanation, as Kreacher brought a small basket that probably had an extension charm, saying “Kreacher hopes it is enough, he knows how much Master enjoys his food.” He smirked again. _Where_ he had picked up this smirking business from, Harry didn’t know.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry, who smiled and put his invisibility cloak over himself and the basket. He didn’t question what Draco had been doing down there in the first place until he’d got up to the dorm, halfway through the miniature feast the elves had packed for him. He didn’t let himself think about it until after Ron had helped him finish it off, and he lay down to go to sleep.

~

Draco had been concerned for most of the day that Potter was missing, however Granger and the Weasel didn’t appear too bothered so he didn’t fully panic until Potter wasn’t at the Halloween feast. He had wolfed down his dinner and near sprinted down to the kitchens, claiming he ‘felt unwell’ to the rest of the Slytherins. They didn’t appear to question it at the table, but he knew he would be in for a grilling in the common room.

Thankfully, Potter was already there, although he looked terrible. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he examined the bloodshot eyes contrasting with the green irises, the even-more-dishevelled-than-usual hair, the paleness under his caramel skin and the mud on his robes. He looked like he’d been crying then gone outside for a mud bath.

He insulted Potter, so that he didn’t betray his true feelings, but was shocked when instead of a snarky comment, Potter's croaky voice, not unlike that of his elf, simply told him the truth. Since when had they become such good friends? Draco decided he must be delirious from a lack of food all day, as he hadn’t been to any meals and Draco hadn’t seen the other two thirds of the golden trio not-so-subtly sneaking out food.

He had seemed relieved when the elf stopped him from answering Draco’s question, his shoulders sagging and his eyes dimming slightly. It seemed he had no answer anyway. He also didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to question what Draco was doing in the kitchens, which was good because Draco _definitely_ didn’t have an answer to that question that wasn’t the embarrassing truth.

He thanked the elves before leaving - they didn’t bring him anything and instead watched him part with knowing smiles.

Tired from the relief from the stress of the day, Draco ignored his friends as he walked into the common room and fell into bed, barely sparing enough time to strip down to his briefs and cast a teeth-brushing charm. He dreamed of hugging and comforting Potter in the kitchens that night - something he regretted not doing earlier.

~

Apparently the weather had decided to take a turn for the worse in November, and for the first time that year Harry was glad to not be on the quidditch team. Instead he was in the library with Draco, the warming charm just starting to fade as the sun set.

Harry had initially turned to look at the sunset - while it was freezing, and the wind whipped unforgivingly against the window, the sky was clear with the barest hint of clouds high up. Orange bled into pink which bled into midnight blue, almost purple, with a smattering of stars - Harry didn’t think he’d seen many things more beautiful.

Then he turned his gaze on Draco. He was bent over a piece of parchment covered in numbers, his hair turning golden much like it did in the light of the potions classroom. The normally harsh angles of his cheekbones, chin and jaw were softened in the peach-coloured light, and his grey eyes were warm as they stared at the parchment. His pink lips, sucking gently on the raven-feather quill, looked inviting, begging to be-

_Bollocks._

_I like Malfoy._

Harry’s eyes widened at the realisation, and he quickly turned back to his charms assignment, trying not to betray his crisis to Draco. However, it was a bit difficult to explain the differences between _Confringo_ and _Expulso_ when having a Gay Crisis. The actual Gay Crisis he’d had when he’d come out hadn’t been this bad.

Looking outside again, he noticed it was dark. How long had it been dark for? A tempus revealed it was half an hour before curfew - maybe he could make the effort to be back in his dorm on time.

“Fancy being back on time for once?” Harry asked.

“S-sure.” Harry looked at Draco - he never stuttered. Of course, the prat had forgotten his cloak and was shivering.

Harry quickly packed up his stuff, debating the merits of giving Draco his cloak to walk back to his dorms. One more look at the other boy decided it - he was much paler than usual, his lips no longer pink, and had his arms wrapped around himself.

“Here. Your dorm is further than mine.” Harry removed his warm cloak in one smooth movement, and in another was fastening it around Draco’s shoulders - even though he was a couple of inches taller, the cloak was just long enough, and he stopped shivering almost immediately. Harry should have been cold, but the heat of Draco’s stare warmed him plenty.

Grey eyes flickered down and back up, before Draco leaned in and kissed Harry. It was barely a brush of lips against lips, but Harry froze, panicking.

In a second, Draco had grabbed his bag and disappeared before Harry could say a word.

~

Draco didn’t quite know what it was that made him lose control.

Maybe it was the scent of pine and treacle and _Potter_ that had washed over him as Potter swung his cloak around Draco’s shoulders.

Maybe it was the earnest expression on his face as he did up the buttons, so close to Draco.

Maybe it was the eye contact, the emerald eyes looking into his, those lips slightly parted.

But Draco couldn’t control it, and was _mortified_ afterwards.

He’d sprinted down three corridors before slowing to a fast paced walk, deliberately not thinking about how soft, and warm, and inviting Har- Potter’s lips had been.

He hadn’t stopped walking until he’d thrown himself onto his bed, wordlessly flicking his wand to pull the drapes around his bed, the green reminding him of Potter, Potter’s eyes, Potter’s lips.

_He’d kissed Potter._

_On the lips._

The full realisation hit him, and he groaned and turned over so his face was fully pressed into his pillow, as if that would make it go away.

“You alright there, Draco?’

“Fuck off Blaise” is what Draco tried to say, but his voice was muffled by the pillow so what came out was “uh oh aise.”

“I will most certainly _not_ fuck off until you tell me what’s going on so I can tell Pansy and Millie and Theo and take the piss out of you for the next three weeks.”

Draco sighed and rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. Blaise wouldn’t give up, and Draco really couldn’t be arsed to hex him. “I kissed Potter.”

“You did WHAT?!” Pansy squealed from behind the drapes.

“Was he awake? You look far too not-hexed for him to have been awake.” Blaise raised an eyebrow.

“We heard Pansy squealing and decided we couldn’t wait for Blaise’s terrible retelling. Also we were eavesdropping outside.” Millie walked in unabashedly, and Theo followed, slightly bashful.

“Yes Blaise, he was awake. I used his complete and utter shock to escape while I still could.”

“So how much did you kiss him? Cheek, lips, French…?” Pansy grinned.

“Lips. Not French.” Pansy looked decidedly sad at the news.

“And he _didn’t_ punch you?” Millie also looked decidedly sad at Draco’s middle finger, followed by him shaking his head.

“Anything remotely interesting happen? When did you get a new cloak?” Blaise fingered Harry’s cloak.

“ _Bollocks._ That’s Harry’s cloak - he lent it to me. _Shitting bollocks._ Now I have to return it.”

“Can I be there? Please?” Pansy pleaded.

“No. Now all of you fuck off, I want to wallow in self pity before I go to sleep.”

All of them smiled slightly at that, before leaving.

Draco drew the drapes again ( _honestly, they have_ no _manners_ ) before sighing and lying back down on his bed. Tomorrow was going to be terrible. And Potter would never sit next to him again.

~

Harry was furious with himself.

 _Why_ did he freeze? He’d just figured out that he liked Draco, and now he’s scared him away for good. He walked the route to the Slytherin common room under his invisibility cloak, but unless Draco casts one hell of a disillusionment charm he must have ran all the way down.

Harry still spent the best part of an hour walking all over the school, in hopes that he would come across Draco. He would have used the Marauder’s Map, except he left it in his dorm and what if, while he was fetching it, Draco went to his dorm when he wasn’t there before?

Harry gave up after a narrow miss with Filch, who was still muttering about the clean up after the Battle despite most of it being cleared up by volunteers over the summer. He’d shivered, and realised that Draco would have to come find him to give him his cloak back, and then he could tell Draco how he felt. And maybe ask him on a date.

He grinned like a lunatic as he went through the portrait whole, resulting in knowing smiles from Hermione and Ron. “Just had a good shag, mate?”

“Not yet.” As the couple gaped at him, he practically bounded up the stairs and lay awake in bed for Merlin knows how long, excited for the morning.

~

Draco got up earlier than usual, full of anxiety. He got dressed, making sure he wore _his_ cloak before draping Potter’s over his arm. His leg vibrated as he waited for Blaise in the common room, his fingers fiddling with the corner of Potter’s cloak. He wouldn’t normally make a scene by taking it to breakfast with him and giving it to Potter there, but he knew how much Potter hated a) people bullying Slytherins (which might start up again if the Saviour hexes him in public) and b) over dramatic public scenes in general, so hopefully Potter won’t do anything. Draco would have to find a new place to study though, which is a shame.

Blaise had taken forty minutes to get ready, meaning they would arrive at the peak breakfast time. _Brilliant,_ Draco thought. He hadn’t wanted to be hexed, but handing Potter his cloak in front of this many people would spark all sorts of rumours.

On the bright side, rumours of the Saviour shagging a Slytherin could only boost their reputation.

Potter arrived at the exact same moment as the group of Slytherins, so Draco decided to get his attention before entering the hall - at least he wouldn’t have to do this at a table of Gryffindors.

“Potter!” He turned and smiled at Draco ( _he’s definitely going to hex me...and enjoy doing it_ ) before turning to his friends and muttering something to them. Granger looked satisfied, and dragged along the Weasel, who looked...shocked? Whatever Potter was planning to do to him must be bad, if it disturbed the Weasel.

“I brought your cloak” Draco said, once again looking into green eyes with a severe sense of déja vu. They were as earnest as they were in the library. _Definitely to lure me into a sense of false security._ Well he wasn’t falling for it.

Potter reached up and...caressed his cheek? Draco was very, very confused.

“It’s okay.” Potter almost whispered, before raising himself on his toes to reach Draco and...kissing him.

Not what Draco had done, but something much, much more. A demand, and a promise.

Draco melted, dropping the cloak and reaching out to touch Potter, to savour the moment if it wasn’t real.

Potter pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against Draco’s.

“Potter, are you real?” Draco asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Very. And call me Harry, you prat.”

Draco leaned in for another kiss, ignoring the shocked gasps of people in the hallway, in the Great Hall, and whispered against Harry’s lips “Okay, Harry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> I’m not 100% with the formatting, so apologies.
> 
> Edit: thanks for all the kudos and lovely comments, every single one is appreciated ❤️


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